


Less Like a Nightmare

by Mayberryberry



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 20:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12440817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayberryberry/pseuds/Mayberryberry
Summary: Riley would find Oliver if he was in hell. That means something, right?





	Less Like a Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy <3

It was Riley who found Oliver.

The call had been made at 3am, and shortly thereafter Jason had shaken Riley awake and went to get Grant. They tied their shoes on the dark porch to prevent their mom for hearing them, and Jason explained in hurried, hushed whispers that Oliver had called. Oliver didn't know where he was, he was fucked up, he didn't know what to do, he was scared, and he was alone.

At 3:30, after checking and calling all the usual haunts, they'd called Vincent and Daisy and Keith. Only Keith refused to come out, he had a meeting at 8 and did Jason have any fucking idea how important meetings with the head of marketing were? Shit. Oliver was big boy he could take care of himself.

“Fuck that guy,” Grant growled, rubbing his eyes.

Daisy checked the haunts in northtown, Vincent around Caltech. Grant wound up checking the downtown, and Jason started making the rounds of the clubs Oliver liked. Riley took his bike down to the waterfront on a hunch, and worked his way in the darkness towards the yacht club.

The Carswell yacht had been docked here, before Olivers parents had taken it on a spur of the moment voyage down to Mexico. Riley had assumed they had meant to go for a week, maybe two, but three months later they were still gone.

Oliver was passed out on a bench on the floating docks. He was behind three locked gates and a goddamn security guard that had taken almost fifteen minutes to get around. Riley was panting by the time he reached Oliver, and ready to kill the rich asshole himself. 

“Hey,” Riley saw the blaze of blonde hair from down the dock. His heart began to beat properly for the first time since Jason shook him awake. “Asshole,” he touched Oliver's shoulder, felt at his neck for a pulse, relief was hot in his throat. “Hey shitface, how bad are you?”

“Jason?” Oliver barely moved, barely managing to get his eyes open for a squinting glance at Riley.

Riley bit his teeth and swallowed hard. “No, asshole, learn to tell us apart,” he pulled his hand back. 

Oliver blinked at him, then struggled to sit up and set one hand to Riley's shoulder, as if grounding himself. He moved like he was underwater. He didn’t speak.

“Hey, you need to go to the ER?” Riley always took care of Oliver. He had seen Oliver in what could be a wide ranging textbook of examples of the many and varied states of fucked up. This was a bad one. 

“No.”

“You sure? What did you take?” 

“No,” Oliver said again, more stubborn, but less sure.

“Fuckwit, I'm calling an ambulance.”

Oliver moved suddenly, his sleepy, underwater motions gone as he gripped Riley's wrist hard, “No.”

“Tell me what you took,” Riley kept working to pull his arm up and make the 911 call. Oliver’s hand was hot on his wrist. “Tell me how much and how long ago.” Oliver wasn't getting out of going to the ER for being a fucking stubborn asshole.

“They left three months ago,” Oliver said, looking up at Riley with his huge blue eyes wide, “They're touring Chilean wine country right now.” 

Shit. Riley stopped moving. He’d seen Oliver in every stage of fucked up. He had never hadn't ever been on deck for anything like this.

“They haven't even fucking called me,” Oliver went on. He was holding onto Riley with the strength of a drowning man. “I found out where they were because I asked our housekeeper.”

“Oliver,” Riley started, then stopped with his mouth open. He couldn't tell if Oliver was really fucked up or if he'd been crying.

“I'm turning twenty-fucking-three in a week. They're not going to be home. They're not going to call. They don't fucking know.” Oliver went on, his words tumbling out over each other, his voice thick.

_ Shit _ . It wasn't even five in the morning and Riley had no fucking idea how to deal with any of this.

“They weren't even here last year, they didn't even know that I wasn't going to dad's alma mater until they asked when my fucking graduation was. They didn't fucking know I dropped out...”

“Shit,” Riley said quietly. He had heard Oliver talk about his folks but not like this. Like this, he could understand a little better why Oliver always invited himself over. He could see why Oliver was given a spare key, why Riley's mom kept the fridge stocked even when they weren't going to be home. They all kept the guest room neat for Oliver to sleep in. 

Riley had always just assumed Oliver had enough to occupy himself with between the mansion, and the gold card, and the cars, and private jet. “Oliver, shut up for a second.”

Oliver blinked at him, looking at him with his mouth open slightly.

Riley hesitated for a moment before he put his free hand on Oliver's shoulder, and leaned in slightly. “Get your ass up. Get your shit together. We're walking out of here. We're getting a cab home. You're going to bed.” Riley swallowed, his throat felt tight and his face was hot, “I'm going to take care of you, Jason and Grant and Daisy and Vincent are all looking for you. We fucking care about you alright asshole? You're important you piece of shit, and you're going to be looked after alright?”

Riley kept his gaze locked on Oliver's. He watched as Oliver nodded slowly, rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, and shut his eyes.

They pried Riley's bike out of the trunk of the taxi shortly before 5:30am, and Riley had called Grant to sound the all clear. Jason was already home when they arrived, he'd left a brief note for Oliver (“You're an idiot. Counterstrike tomorrow Y/Y”) and Grant instructed Riley to just get Oliver up to his room and get him to sleep.

Oliver had been quiet on the ride back, but finally answered Riley's question about what he'd taken. After a few minutes of googling with Grant on hold, they decided that Oliver didn't need the hospital.

“Just keep your voice down alright? Mom's still asleep,” Riley locked the door after them and began dragging Oliver up the stairs. “Move it asshole,” Oliver wasn't quite dead weight but he was back to moving like he was underwater. “Oliver Carswell I swear to fucking god I'm gonna need you to dig deep and find some fucking bones and fucking move your ass up here,” He hissed, finally dragging oliver up to the second floor and down the hall.

“Sorry man,” Oliver was laughing at him, he barely made an effort and let Riley drag him through the door of the spare room. “Sorry I...”

“Shut up, what did I just say about how asleep mom is?” Riley grunted and pulled Oliver around to sit him down on the neatly made up bed. “Anyway, we don’t apologize. Just don't scare us like that again asshole.”

Oliver nodded along as Riley spoke, “Thanks, I... Thanks,” He shook his head. “I should have just come here. You guys are the best family. I love you guys all so much and I'm such a dumbass sometimes. I just… I really don't want to be some fucking orphan you have to take care of and...”

“Hey,” Riley shook Oliver's shoulders, “Shut. Up. You're fucked up beyond any reason. Stop trying to explain shit. You don't have to explain anything to me ok? We're family. We love you. You know that asshole.”

Oliver looked up at Riley with his huge blue eyes and didn’t move.

“Go to sleep, talk to me tomorrow,” Riley pushed Oliver down slightly down into the softness of the bed. He’s slept here  more then in the mansion this last year, and more before that. There was a pair of pyjamas and a toothbrush for him in the drawer. A pair of pyjamas Riley’s mom had picked up when she’d bought each of her boys new robes and slippers and pjs. Oliver was one of hers, in her mind.

“Don't go?”

Riley as already pulling away, but he stopped short with Oliver's hand on his wrist.

“Olli it's like five in the morning I want to go to bed.”

“Sleep here?”

“You're sleeping here.”

Riley was exhausted, stressed and his heart was breaking again for this spoiled rich boy who no one loved more than he did.

Riley was perfectly aware of how misplaced his affections were.

“Sleep with me.”

Riley opened his mouth and shut it again.

“Or let me share your bed?”

Riley pulled his wrist back sharply, and looked away as Oliver's face fell.

“Get changed. If you still want to cram your skinny ass into my bed you can.”

“Yeah?”

Riley could almost hear Oliver perking up. He didn’t look at him. He didn’t know what to hope for. 

“Thanks man.”

Riley shook his head, “I didn't say you got blankets. You can curl up like a dog at the foot of the bed for all I care.”

Oliver just grinned at him, wide and explosive, bright through his drugged idiocy. The huge smile Oliver reserved for Jason. It wasn't for Riley.

Oliver didn't have any smiles like that for Riley. Not when he was sober. Not when they meant something.

Riley left, and went and scraped his own pyjamas off the floor where he’d thrown them two and half hours ago. His room was dull grey in the predawn light and the ache behind his eyes was painful. His face was hot, he felt like a child trying desperately not to burst into tears. He felt like an idiot. Oliver didn't care that it was Riley who could find him anywhere. Oliver had been hoping for Jason to find him. It was Jason that Oliver wanted to pour his heart out to.

Riley flopped back over his bed without bothering to pull up the covers. The ceiling was dark grey above him and he could feel a slight shift and heave of his bed under him. His body could remember the motion of the docks where he'd found Oliver.

Jason hadn't even stayed up to check on him. The thought was dark and angry in the back of Riley’s mind. It was Riley who could find Oliver, Riley who stayed up to make sure he was ok, Riley who would listen to him air his prescription-grade abandonment issues. Riley who Oliver saw as a kid brother. Riley was just an adjunct to Oliver’s friendship with Jason.

The thought felt a little like the beginning of a nightmare. It twisted in his aching head. Resentment and jealousy are familiar companions when you’re the youngest, and least gifted, of three. 

There was a sudden movement in the periphery of his vision, and then a hundred and sixty five pounds of fucked up one-percenter landed across Riley's midsection.

“Fuck you,” Riley wheezed. He curled like an armadillo, but that just brought him closer up against Oliver, wrapped the two of them together.

Oliver just laughed and twisted until he could look down at Riley, chest to chest with elbows planted in the mattress, his hands in Riley's dark hair.

Riley froze. He was still curled up slightly, tense with the shock of Oliver landing on him, and their breath was mingling in the inch between their mouths.

Oliver was fever hot through the thin cotton of their pyjamas. 

“Thanks man,” Oliver said again, so quiet Riley almost didn't hear him.

Riley wanted, he  _ needed  _ to tell Oliver to get off him. He needed to put his fucked up friend to bed and roll away from him. He needed to make Oliver believe him if he said everything was going to be ok. He needed Oliver to see that Jason wasn't ever going to fucking notice that Oliver had a crush. He needed Oliver...

Oliver shifted slightly, that long tanned body sliding heavy and warm and drowsy over Riley. Fever hot and smiling at him.

Needed Oliver to get off him. Right now.

Riley licked his lips and swallowed.

“Come here for your birthday,” Riley heard himself say.

Oliver tipped his head slightly. “Yeah?”

“Sure. Mom'll love it. She hasn't made Pavlova since your last birthday and we got a fuck ton of kiwi's. She'll be overjoyed. Jason'll probably have the pool set up by then. Grant'll still be home for it.”

“You'll be there right?” Oliver hadn't blinked, and his expression hadn't changed.

Riley wasn't sure if Oliver was going to remember this.

“How fucked up are you?” Riley asked once again. “I  _ live _ h--”

Oliver kissed him.

Riley's mouth was open, and he was stunned and tense with shock and awe and unable to move for fear of ending this. Just a soft touch, Oliver's lips on his, Oliver's tongue barely touching his. Just one brief, shared breath.

Riley made a small sound that came straight from the lexicon of hopeless causes.

“So fucked up,” Oliver said through his grin. His lips were moving on Riley's.

“Don't remember this,” Riley said. He wasn't sure if he meant it as a pleas or a command. His hand was tight in Oliver's curly hair, bright gold, light in the greyness of his room. Oliver seemed to take a quick, feather light breath and then hold it. He didn't move, and Riley tensed to pull Oliver back down.

He stopped himself in time. Barely.

“Don't--” Riley went to repeat himself, then realized his fingers were curled too tight in Oliver's blond curls, and he pushed Oliver sideways. “Just sleep, asshole. You're well fucked up if you think...” He broke himself off in time. Barely.  _...if you think I'm Jason. _

Oliver just laughed, his face shoved into the pillow beside Riley's head.

Riley's heart was hammering in his chest. His breath felt hot and weak in his throat. He felt an foolish little child again, his eyes were hot. “Go to sleep you asshole.”

“You want big spoon or little spoon,” Oliver was still laughing, the easy, loose laughter that came to him regardless of whether he was fucked up or not.

Riley's heart gave a hopeless little skip. “Asshole. I changed my mind. Sleep in your own damn.. oof—”

Oliver hugged him, tighter than Riley would have suspected Oliver was capable of.

“Oliver,” Riley grunted. He squirmed, wished Jason had been awake enough to take Oliver off his hands. Instantly took that thought back when Oliver squeezed him a little tighter.

“Thanks for coming to find me man,” Oliver whispered. His face was down in Riley's shoulder, blond hair in the crook of Riley's neck. He smelled like chemical smoke and seawater and designer cologne.

“We all went out,” Riley shuddered unexpectedly, his body was so tense it was almost painful. “Your parent's might not give a shit but we do ok? We were fucking canvassing the neighbourhood at 4 in the fucking morning for you.” Riley paused a second, “Except Keith.”

“Fuck that guy,” Oliver said, in almost the exact same tone Grant had used.

Riley gave a snort of laughter.

“You found me though,” Oliver said quietly. He laughed into Riley's shoulder. It was a sleepy sound, half muffled and mostly inaudible anyway. “That means something, right?”

“I'd find you if you were in hell,” Riley grunted, and he twisted in Oliver's arms, bringing them face to face as he pulled the blankets up over both of them. “Go the fuck to sleep, Oliver.”

“Sorry Riley,” Oliver muttered. His eyes were star-bright tired. “I'm sorry I'm such a--”

“Don't,” Riley couldn't stop himself, and pushed Oliver's hair back. The blond curls were silky soft, and very warm. “We don’t apologize.”

“Right,” Oliver shut his eyes. It was an old arrangement with a long history. They never said sorry to each other. It was easy for Jason, he never said sorry when he was sober and never would. 

Riley reluctantly pulled his hand out of Oliver's hair.

Oliver seemed for a moment to lean after him, chasing his touch and Riley snarled at himself not to be an idiot. Oliver sought touch regardless of who was around.

“Riley,” Oliver said quietly.

“Yeah?” Riley didn't know what to do with his hands, Oliver had tightened his hold on him, and they were almost chest to chest again.

“Riley,” Oliver said again, nonsensical and sure of himself. His hands closed into fists against Riley's back.

“Yeah,” Riley murmured back.

Oliver just shuddered, and his body lost it's tension in fits and starts, his fingers eased and then twitched against Riley's back. His lashes were glossy gold on his cheeks.

It was barely light enough that Riley could see his each of his freckles.

“Yeah,” Riley said again. His chest ached. He knew the constellation of the freckles on Oliver's cheeks by heart. He'd known them for years. He tried not to breath as pressed his hand flat into the space between Oliver's shoulder blades. Fever hot and still trembling from some tension Riley couldn't guess the source of.

Oliver slipped away from him, barely smiling, his body growing soft and heavy as Riley lay dozing off and holding him safe.

“Idiot,” Riley whispered to him.

Oliver barely made a grunt in response, but his smile barely widened, and his body relaxed entirely.

“Idiot,” Riley whispered to himself. He shut his eyes, leaned forwards, and barely kissed the corner of Oliver's mouth with his eyes shut and his heart pounding. " _Idiot._ " 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Depression state of mind for requesting an Oliver/Riley fic! This ties in with the series I'm working on about Riley sprinting around the Rook Islands doing his best, but this is a while before the boys hit the islands. Thank you for reading <3


End file.
